The Monster: A Mafia Romance (Boston Belles Book 3)

Sam picked me up on New Year’s Eve, wearing a full-blown tux and a solemn scowl that suggested Satan himself had blackmailed him into doing this at gunpoint.

“For you …” He shoved a bouquet of flowers into my hands when I opened the door, all dolled up in a sheer white mini-dress paired with Louboutin boots.

They were a mix of lilies, sunflowers, and roses, in all shades and colors.

I pressed them to my nose and grinned.

“Thank you. Let me put them in water.”

“What’s the point?” He groaned, still obviously struggling with nicotine withdrawal. “They’ll die at some point anyway.”

“Just like us,” I answered with a small smile. “Death is not a reason to stop living.”

I let him into the foyer and went to the kitchen to find a vase.

When I rounded the corner to come back to the hallway, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of my father and Sam speaking.

“… treat her well. She is still my daughter. Nothing will change that, Brennan, even if I have to go down in flames. She comes first,” I heard Athair say.

Merde.

Sam was bound to say something provocative and crass just to piss Da off. That was the way he operated.

To my surprise, Sam replied, “I’ll treat her well, Gerry. Better than you and your wife have for the past twenty-seven years. But I’m letting you know right now, I’m moving her in with me in the next few weeks. I can’t stand how she is here to cater to your wife’s every whim like she’s a newborn baby.”

“That’s up to her,” Da said. “And I don’t think it’s as bad now. Not since the hospitalization. Cillian and Hunter have been taking a more proactive approach with their mother.”

Da wasn’t wrong. I did have a bit more free time, but Mother still had a long way to go.

“Give me a couple weeks and she’ll be more attached to me.” Sam put a lid on the conversation, firm but not crass.

I cleared my throat, stepping from the kitchen and making myself known. Both men froze. Sam’s eyes landed on me.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

I nodded, my heart missing a beat again to the sight of him in a tux.

“Make it fast, though, Brennan. I want an early evening. I have work tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding me.” I sat in his car, speechless and dumbfounded.

Sam threw the Porsche into park and got out. Fifty minutes after he picked me up, we were at Canobie Lake Park, the closest serious amusement park to Boston. Sam rounded the car and opened the door for me. I stepped out, wrapping my coat around me.

“It’s freezing outside,” I complained.

“I’ll keep you nice and cozy.” He tugged at my hand, leading me to the entrance.

“Bulletproof plan to cop a feel,” I grumbled.

“You wound me,” he said flatly.

“No, I don’t.”

He walked right into the open gate, not bothering with purchasing tickets at the cashier.

“The place is empty.” I blinked.

Sam scanned the park around us absentmindedly, not bothering to look remotely surprised.

“It appears that way. Did I fail to mention I rented the entire thing? I thought it would be nice to have some privacy for a fucking change. There always seems to be too many people around us.”

“And the rides?” I turned to look at him, my heart twisting in my chest.

He chucked my chin with a smile. “All manned up and ready to roll.”

“That must’ve cost a pretty penny.” I cleared my throat.

“Well, the woman I am dating is kind of used to the best.”

That wasn’t true. Even though I came from money, I never enjoyed it quite as much as people thought I did, and that made me even more emotional.

“Oh, Sam.” I looked away, so he couldn’t see how deeply I blushed.

Ten years ago, I came to a fair all by myself, lonely, lost, and sad.

Now, I was at a theme park with the man I fell in love with by my side.

He wanted me to have a do-over.

A different spin on the monster ride.

“You got me good with the tux. I thought we were going somewhere expensive.” I grinned, taking a step back from him, because yet again it was hard not to jump his bones when he was being sweet—or at least not a full-blown asshole.

“It is fucking expensive, Nix. Ever rented a theme park on New Year’s Eve? Now where do you want to start?”

We stared at each other, smirking.

My reply was immediate. “Whatever’s scariest. Something with monsters in it.”

“The Mine of Lost Souls,” he said.

“Mine’s not so lost anymore,” I murmured, taking his outstretched hand.

He led the way.

We boarded a train resembling a mine cart. I knew the ride was themed around a fictional mine that was about to collapse.

The teenager who manned the ride approached us to check we were secure in our seats, grinning at Sam and offering him a fist bump that remained unanswered in the air. I rolled my eyes.

“He was being nice.”

“He was ogling you and imagining what I’ll do to you when the ride is done.”

The ride started and Sam’s hand, which I didn’t even notice was resting on my knee, slid up my thigh, making my dress hike up to my waist. His face was still turned to the other side. To the miners and monsters around us. The story of the collapsing mine unfolded.

“When?” Sam asked, his fingers biting into my thighs, skimming my underwear.

“When what?” I swallowed.

“When did you figure out who you were? In the timeline between seventeen and now. It couldn’t have been the night we met. That was the beginning of things. You’re a fully-formed person now.”

I gave it some thought, even though his fingers pushing my underwear sideways, dipping into my wet core, made me shudder and lose my train of thought. I started breathing hard, feeling my nipples puckering under my bra.

“Honestly?” I heard myself say. “Every single time I met you, you chipped at something in me. I don’t know how to explain it, but there is something about you, something formidable and scary and impossible, that makes a person realize who they are when they deal with you. It’s like looking death in the eye.”

I turned quiet for a second then said, “I know she is dead and it might not mean much, but do you think you’ll ever forgive Cat?”

My underlying question had nothing to do with Catalina. What I wanted to know was—would he ever be able to love a woman?

Sam’s finger curled inside me, pushing in deeper and harder and faster. I began to pant. He turned his head toward me, his mouth finding mine in the dark, slanting over my lips possessively.

“I don’t need to forgive Cat. Somewhere along the road of screwing everything up with you, I found out that I don’t hate women all that much. I love Sparrow, and Sailor, and I’m pretty sure I will fucking kill anyone who gets anywhere close to Rooney until she hits thirty.”

I moaned into his kiss, half-laughing, half-groaning, clutching him close as the ride drew to an end, spinning and sliding from here to there.

The only people in the world were me and him.

My orgasm was within reach. I could feel my body humming to the rhythm of his fingers inside me.

“I still want revenge,” I croaked into his mouth. “Don’t think you’ve won me over just yet. You haven’t.”

“I know,” he grunted, letting me ride his whole hand now beneath my dress. My hips bucked toward his arm, and I thrust and moaned shamelessly, the climax taking over my body like a tsunami.

“Monster, Monster, Monster,” I chanted, breathing his nickname in, thinking how he was right all those years ago, when I asked him what his name was.

It was always Monster.

And I was his Nix.

Maybe it was the best night of my life.

The thing about magical moments is that they wrap around you like a cloak, shielding you from reality, numbing your senses.

But it felt like everything was illuminated. The air was fresher, my lungs fuller, and my skin tingled with adrenaline and warmth.

From the junk food we consumed—sweet and salty popcorn, candy apples, and hot spiked ciders—and the rides. Ten seconds before midnight, we made our own countdown and kissed on the merry-go-round, each of us sitting on top of a unicorn. By the time we left the amusement park, it was half past two in the morning, and I knew I was going to hate both myself and Sam when I woke up in a few hours for another grueling shift at Dr. Doyle’s clinic.

I buckled up next to Sam in the car, still riding the high of the evening.

“You need to quit your job,” he said out of nowhere, starting the car.

I whipped my head in his direction, my mouth going dry. It was like he threw a bucket full of ice water on my face.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, but this week is your last at the horror clinic.” He kicked the vehicle into drive, his eyes cool and disciplined on the road. “It’s too dangerous. There’s too much at stake here. I won’t let you put yourself in a vulnerable position.”

“What I do with my life is none of your business,” I reminded him.

“Everything you do is my business, and you will not continue doing illegal shit that could lead to you spending the rest of your life in prison, no matter how good your intentions are. Either you concede willingly or I will have to go to Dr. Doyle myself and tug at a few strings. Spoiler alert: I’ve been known to tear apart things I don’t like.”

“If you go to Dr. Doyle, I will never speak to or see you again.” I trained my voice to sound blasé, keeping my raging emotions out of it. I had to remind myself he was trying to protect me, even if he had a weird way of going about it. “And I’ll ask my father to fire you just to spite you, making sure we are even. You know he will, after everything that went down. Two can play this game, Brennan. I will not be pushed around by you. Not anymore.”

“It’s a disaster waiting to happen,” he hissed, trying to keep himself in check. I knew Sam wasn’t well-versed in negotiations. He normally just took what he wanted, when he wanted it. He was trying to make an effort.

“It’s not even that bad,” I argued. We slid onto the highway. December gave way to January. It seemed like everything in the world—the trees, the roads, the buildings—was coated with a thin layer of crystal-blue frost, including Sam’s heart. “What I do is perfectly legal in a variety of countries. Switzerland, for instance. But also Belgium, Western Australia, Columbia—”

“Notice what country you omitted from the list?”

I turned to look at him.

“The United States of fucking ’Murica. Here it is illegal, ergo you will not be doing it.”

“You’re right.” I chewed on my lower lip. “Maybe I should move to Switzerland.”

“Your backward logic never ceases to amaze me,” he grunted. “We aren’t moving to Switzerland, sweetheart, no matter how much you like killing people.”

There was a we? Since when was there a we? And why did it make my heart squeeze inside my chest?

Because you still love him, mon cheri. You’ve always loved him. He is your forever, even if you are only his right now.

“Why?” I feigned innocence. “You can do what you do anywhere. I don’t remember being a mobster requiring high SAT and IQ scores. And it’s not like you’ll have a job interview to fail.”

“You done being sassy?”

“Not quite.” I grinned, pleased with myself for holding my own.

“I own too much of Boston to let it go,” Sam explained, letting another verbal attack from my end roll off his back.

“Does ruling Boston make you happy?” I gave him a sidelong glance. “Does anything make you happy?” I added quietly.

“You make me happy,” he snapped, disgusted with himself. “You, and your blue, blue eyes and throaty voice and good, fair heart and dark, depraved soul.”

It was fascinating to see him like this. An injured animal cornered into talking about his feelings. I didn’t want to push him, so I turned to look at the view from the window, smiling to myself.

When we got to Boston, I noticed he was driving to his place, not mine.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “I told you, I have work in the morning.”

“I already packed half your fucking room and moved it into my place, Sherlock. Chances are whatever you were planning to wear in the morning is already at my apartment. Bonus points … you don’t have to pretend to wear scrubs and change when you get to the clinic because I already know your secret.” He killed the engine and got out of the car.

I followed him, my mouth hanging open in astonishment, delight, and irritation. Only Sam could set all three on fire at the same time.

“How?” I demanded. “When?”

Sam took out a pair of keys from his pocket, dangling them between his fingers in front of my face. I recognized them to be my house keys.

“How? Duplicated these puppies a few days ago. When? Mostly when you were at work. Sometimes when you were asleep. It’s amazing how much can escape you. Remind me to never trust you with a safe. The burglar would steal it and you and you wouldn’t even notice.”

Sam

That night I fucked Nix the way I’d always planned to.

In leisure, without feeling her family breathing down my fucking neck.

Bent her over my desk and plowed into her while she screamed my name.

Then again in my bed and another time on the kitchen counter.

After the fifth time, we both fell into bed, exhausted and sweaty.

For the first time in my life, I fell asleep with someone by my side. Felt a woman’s warmth next to mine.

There was still some way to go. She had to quit her god-awful job and take a more traditional position as a doctor. But we were going places.

When I woke up in the morning, I turned over on my back and flung an arm out to her. Her side of the bed was cold.

I opened one eye, frowning.

She was gone.

She left a note on the nightstand.

Thanks for the sex, but you are still not off the hook.

—Nix.

Sam

Aisling refused to see me the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after.

She didn’t take my calls, didn’t show up when I drove over to her house, and wouldn’t read my text messages.

And there were so fucking many of them.

Much more than I’d ever sent anyone else.

Sam: Stop acting like a child.

Sam: All I need is to show up at the clinic if I want to see you.

Sam: You proved your point. We can renegotiate your job.

Sam: You’re getting on my last nerve, Nix, and you don’t want to see what happens when I finally snap.

Sam: This is why I never wanted a relationship.

For better or worse, the last sentence triggered her, because she chose to reply.

Nix: No one is forcing you to be with me.

Sam: That’s not entirely true.

Something was, in fact, forcing me to be with her. My lack of ability to keep away from her. Ignoring her was manageable before we fell into bed, before we spent time together, before I found out things about her. Pussy was pussy, and with my eyes closed, it was easy to imagine fucking Aisling when I was deep inside someone else.

But no one else was going to cut it now, no matter how much I wanted to turn around and walk away from her.

It was going to be difficult and maddening and definitely take me out of my comfort zone, but I couldn’t not have her, however how much I tried.

Nix: Are you going to elaborate?

Sam: No.

Sam: Have dinner with me tonight.

Nix: Not until you apologize. You moved my things into your apartment, Sam. Without asking. Who does that?

Sam: I’m assuming this is a hypothetical question.

Nix: We’ll do things my way now. And my way might be frustrating to you. It’s about what I’m comfortable with, not about making you pay.

Sam: You’re already making me pay. I’m not accustomed to not getting what I want.

Nix: Life is hard.

Sam: So am I.

Nix: You sound like Hunter.

I was.

I finally realized why Hunter was so obsessed with my sister. Why Cillian couldn’t tear himself away from Persephone. There was something addicting about a woman who gave you her everything. Something that was hard to walk away from once you’d tasted it.

Sam: I will have you, one way or the other.

Nix: We’ll see about that.

That was what she didn’t take into account.

It took a monster to destroy a monster.

And I was going to devour her whole.